Though surprised, Zhao Hong had no intention of changing his plans. He let the people around him issue orders and direct the troops while he watched in silence, watching soldier after soldier perish amid the firelight and fall beneath flashing blades. Yet not a ripple of emotion could be seen in his eyes. Instead, he was studying the methods and formations of these raiding soldiers.
"Interesting! Interesting! I wonder who drilled this troop. Their coordination is so exquisite, and there are so many distinct divisions of labor within..."
As Zhao Hong watched, he seemed to be talking to himself. But halfway through, he turned and looked behind him. At some unknown point, a man holding a blade had appeared there. His face was cold, and he seemed to have merged with the scenery around him, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other.
"Xi Feng, have you discerned the characteristics of this troop?"
Hearing Zhao Hong's question, the man called Xi Feng shook his head. "I only concern myself with killing. I need not bother with anything else. If the General wishes, you may explain it to me and let me see whether there is anything in it that can be borrowed for the martial path."
"Truly a martial fanatic. But without madness, one cannot live; only people like you have a chance at great achievement. What a pity..." Zhao Hong shook his head and raised a hand to point. "Look at those raiders..."
The place where he stood happened to give him a view of the entire battlefield.
But after following his finger, Xi Feng saw that the raiding force was exceptionally fierce. White Lotus soldiers charged at them one after another, only to resemble moths flying into flame. He could not help asking, "Great General, your troops